


sealed with a kiss

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Gabriel, Demon deal, Demons, Gabriel Lives, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know, M/M, Oneshot, Plan, Protective Gabriel, but not massively, fem!Gabriel, for like half a chapter as a disguise, it might be expanded beyond a oneshot depending on the response, mammon - Freeform, pre-Sabriel - Freeform, prince of hell, reference to lucifer, resurrected, tragically wrong, trap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just meant to be a standard demon hunt. Nothing had seemed unusual about the case. Nothing had implied more than one demon. Nothing had suggested it would come to this.</p><p>Nothing suggested Sam had walked into a trap constructed by Lucifer loyalist demons, intent on seeing the Apocalypse run its course.</p><p>Nothing even remotely hinted at the events about to unfold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sealed with a kiss

Sam’s vision was swimming. The hit to his head left a ringing pain echoing against the walls of his mind. The floor blurred into a featureless mess.

It was just meant to be a standard demon hunt. Nothing had seemed unusual about the case. Nothing had implied more than one demon. Nothing had suggested it would come to this.

Sam tried to push himself up. One of the creatures grabbed his hair and jerked Sam’s head back. Dean was lying motionless on the floor. There was a growing pool of red gathering around his back. His arm lay bent at an unnatural angle; the First Blade had rolled away from his slack fingers. 

Sam tried to struggle, but his vision flickered and everything felt like pain. 

The thing blinked, beady black eyes glaring down at the Winchester. It grinned – jesus fuck it wasn't even remotely human anymore – and brought its other hand hard into the side of Sam’s face.

Sam fell to the floor.

\---------------

“-ready?”

“How long do we have?”

Silk.

It was the first thing Sam thought. That voice felt like cool silk pressed against the pounding in his head.

Then he tried to figure out why there was a pounding in his head.

Then he remembered Dean lying limp on the floor, and the demon knocking him down.

It explained why his arms had been pulled back awkwardly. It explained why it felt like his wrists were bound tight together. Sam guessed it was a stake, or a pillar of some sort. There was a brief moment of how the fuck did my life get to this point and then he began to panic, and forced his eyes open.

It was a large open space. Maybe an abandoned factory, or an old hall. Cliché. There were a few demons in small clusters, talking in hushed tones. Sam couldn't see Dean – he didn't know if that meant good, or bad. Maybe they'd left Dean in that room, and Dean was going to come charging in, guns blazing, very soon. Or maybe Dean was dead. Sam didn't really like the latter an awful lot.

A short brown haired demon noticed Sam first. He was stocky, and rather insignificant looking. “He’s awake,” it called out. Black eyes flickered towards him. He felt like a decorative centrepiece. 

A taller woman stalked towards him. Her hair was draped in thick gold curls across a black t-shirt. Threads of blond and brown weaved throughout, yet it looked completely natural. It looked like caramel spun into soft ringlets.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked. It didn’t sound anywhere near as threatening as he’d hoped. More hoarse and confused.

She smiled. Nothing about her seemed significant, and yet she was only the demon to approach.

“Nothing much,” she replied nonchalantly, as though she was simply grocery shopping. It was the silken voice that had cooled the pain hammering inside Sam’s skull when he was first roused.

“Where’s Dean?”

She laughed. “Who?” she replied with a wide grin. Sam felt the panic begin to boil within him. He could try praying to Castiel, or Hannah, or anyone who might listen.

“Don’t you dare touch D-“

Her palm cracked against his cheekbone. Her manicured nails drew four thin lines in the wake of their path. Sam clenched his jaw. He tugged at the bonds, but they stayed secure.

_Shut your trap, and stop tugging._

“Wha-“

_I’m kinda wishing I’d let them gag you, bucko. You just don’t zip it, do you?_

“Shut up, boy,” she growled, “or I could cut out that tongue of yours, and make you stop.” Sam eyes followed the silk-voiced demon as she walked away. She seemed completely oblivious to the conversation she was starting inside his head.

_Not oblivious – you’re pretty much yelling your thoughts out. Also not a demon, but we’ll get into that later. For now, I’m just your ride out of here alive._

Sam didn’t have firsts often. Having a dem- thing speak directly into his mind was one of those rare firsts. Not grasping how it worked, Sam thought as hard as he could about Dean, trying to communicate to her his concern.

_Dean’s with Cassie, chill out. Bit beaten up, but that’s just the standard for you guys._

The demon’s had formed back into their little clusters, but the whole atmosphere felt a lot more excitable and volatile now. Sam didn’t trust the thing in his head, but given his current situation, he didn’t think he had any choice other than to rely on and believe in it. Maybe, for once, it wouldn’t go to shit.

 _Mm, I’m not sure what they’re yabbering about either._ A blatant lie. Sam could hear the forcedness. The concern. _Buuuut, I do know that you’ve got a lot of these freaks interested. Even the higher ups have been curious._

Sam did his best to mentally frown in confusion. He could only imagine how ridiculous he must look to anyone who saw him.

_Pretty damn ridiculous. But yeah, there’s a Prince chilling here, which isn’t great. Also why you’re still playing damsel in distress – the dude’s got a solid grip on your soul, and he ain’t letting go._

The silk-voiced de- thing stopped pacing, ignoring Sam’s mental jabs for more information.

The other demons mirrored her, twisting towards the double doors at the end of the room. Even Sam could feel something radiating, coming closer. It tasted bitter and rusty and-

_Buckle up, bucko. It’s show time!_

And in that moment, the connection was severed. It felt strangely empty in Sam’s head without the voice.

The double doors at the end of the room swung open. A man Sam didn’t recognise walked in. The demons seemed to back away from his presence, eyeing him carefully.

The man grabbed the silk-voiced demon by her throat. He lifted her slowly, grinning, all teeth. The surrounding demons looked to each other frantically, but no-one dared step forward or speak out. She struggled in his grip.

In a swift movement, he dropped, slamming her into the floor. There was a sickening crunch. She fought back, weakly. His hand snapped her neck like it was a simple twig. He stood up, and rubbed his hands together. “She was a traitor,” he said bluntly, answering the question no-one dared ask. “She reeked of betrayal.”

Sam felt his stomach drop. She’d mentioned a higher demon being present. Maybe the plan had failed. Fuck.

“Mammon, master,” one of the demons muttered, bowing. Sam recognised that name. That name was jotted in countless books. It was the panicked scribble of damned soul. 

He was a high demon; a Prince of Hell. Later, Sam would wonder whether that was essentially the same as a Knight in regards to rank. Not now, though.

“Count yourselves among the blessed damned. You’ll be present to welcome back our Lord.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. They were releasing Lucifer. He wasn’t here for a hostage situation, or for some demons to play with their blades. He was here as an offering to Lucifer. They were handing over the vessel. There was no doubt within Sam that Lucifer knew how to make him crumble into submission and say yes.

Mammon’s calm eyes landed on him. Lucifer’s toy.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, Sam. Apologies for the whole set-up. Demons aren’t exactly renowned for their hospitality, or their manners.” Mammon’s words felt underwhelming in the whole situation. Mammon stalked towards him – Sam couldn’t help noticing that the Prince looked predatory with his jagged movements and his fiery, bright eyes.

That made Sam the prey.

“I guess I just figured that you wouldn’t really want to collaborate with our beautiful plans,” Mammon said teasingly. He stopped inches from Sam; his hand lifted under Sam’s chin, fingers curling around his cheeks. Mammon felt like ice. “See, we revel in chaos, Sam. And what could possibly be more chaotic than the Apocalypse? Strung together by God himself, and carried through by our Father.”

“Lu- Lucifer hated demons. He loathes every last one of you,” Sam said, each word punctuated with tentative bite. He clenched his jaw as Mammon’s fingers moved gently across the surface of his flesh.

“You’re funny, Sam. I like you, I really do.” Mammon feigned sympathy with an exaggerated frown and slow head shake. He sighed dramatically before continuing, “It’s a shame our Father is the one who gets to spend time with you. We could’ve been good friends.”

Sharp, freezing nails trailed teasingly down Sam’s skin as Mammon dropped his hand down the human’s neck. He laughed lightly as Sam pressed himself against the pillar, backing from the touch. “Don’t touch me,” he growled out, but it was shaky and unconvinced.

“You humans are so fragile – masterpieces just begging to be broken!” Mammon replied, twisted delight blossoming from creased dimples. “But Father wants you, and there’s so many toys out there for me.”

Sam shuddered. Mammon’s hand dropped onto the human’s chest, moving with it as it rose and fell. He looked enticed and hungry.

“Still, I don’t Father expects you in perfect condition.” Sam felt his chest tightening. His jaw clenched. “And he always takes all the best toys. It’s just not fair…”

“You- you could share?”

Mammon laughed. “I never learned how to share.”

Something changed, then. Sam couldn’t understand it, but he knew something changed. Mammon knew it too.

“I suppose I could always teach you.”

That voice. It wasn’t even vaguely human. It was the sea. Right now, it was merely the choppy waves on a rainy day, not far from the shore. But the sea ran deep, and the sea was dangerous. That voice was restraining itself; that voice could be the unchartered depths of the ocean, where no light could reach and everything was crushed under the overwhelming power and pressure.

That voice had been the unchartered depths once. It had split a continent into small splinters.

Mammon understood. A twisted grin spread across his lips. “Oh sweetheart, this is more like it. I was wondering where Heaven’s little birdies were.” Mammon twisted around, but not before Sam noticed the flicker of fear in his eyes; a forked tongue flashed out across his lips. “Still though, one angel? Did the Fall hit you that hard?”

The lights flickered. Mammon stumbled backwards.

“You’ll be wishing I was just an angel, bucko.”

Sam felt his stomach twist at that voice. He knew it, but the roaring undercurrent of pure power distorted it beyond recognition. When Mammon stepped forward towards the source, Sam finally saw him.

Gabriel.

A golden light clung to him. Wrapped around him like a second skin. There was no snarky smile on his lips – just an anger brewing in his eyes and on his tongue. His voice – the Messenger’s true voice – screaming to cry out and level the building. 

He looked like thunder and lightning and raging fire, all compressed into a 5ft 8 vessel. Like a supernova, with the explosion echoing itself over and over again. Raw power with no masks and no facades to hide it away.

“I thought your kind was extinct,” Mammon said. The bitter cheer had been replaced with a sharp anxiousness. 

“Didn’t they tell you about me? The stubborn bastard who just won’t quit?”

“Can’t say I’ve heard about you – maybe you’re not as big a deal as you like to think.”

Gabriel smirked. A bolt of lightning struck directly in front of him. For a split second, the shadowy outline of six wings was cast against the back wall. They spanned the width of the hall, and still weren’t fully flexed. Sam had never seen this side of Gabriel before; it was brutally mesmerising and gracefully terrifying. It was the poster child of what an archangel truly was; absolute, merciless and raw.

“You’re all bark and no bite.”

Sam blinked. A miniscule amount of time passed during the blink of an eye. A miniscule amount of time was all Gabriel needed to knock Mammon down. The archangel’s blade hovered close to the demon’s throat. Mammon’s fingers were wrapped around Gabriel’s throat. A slow stream of red trailed from his nails, down his dark fingers.

“How about you get your dirty little claws out of his soul, and I kill you quickly?”

“My other option?”

“You drag your heels, I make you scream in a non-sexy way, you let go of Sam, and I still kill you.”

“They’re both such enticing propositions, birdy,” Mammon said, and grinned as his fingers fell from Gabriel’s neck. “But I have a counter offer.”

Gabriel didn’t reply.

“You kill me, and I’ll drag him,” Mammon’s eyes flickered towards Sam, “down with me. Or…”

“Or?”

“Your soul for his.”

It was a simple suggestion. Gabriel had anticipated it. Sam hated it.

“Don’t you dare,” Sam yelled. Neither of them acknowledged him. He pulled taut at the ropes twisted around his wrists. The skin underneath was rubbing raw.

“How long do I get?”

“One month.”

“Fuck off.”

Sam let out a breath of relief. He relaxed a little, before the rope broke through his skin. 

“I want one year.”

Mammon smiled, that damn forked tongue flicking out across his lips. Sam didn’t care about the warm trickle running from his wrists now.

“Gabriel, stop it!”

“One year, and Sam’s soul is good to go.” Gabriel nodded, lifting his weight from off Mammon’s chest. The demon knelt up, facing him.

“Please!”

Gabriel looked at Sam. He offered up a sympathetic smile. It broke Sam’s heart. Not another person, dying because of him. Not again. Please. “I haven't got all day, bucko. Let's start this party.”

“Gabe…”

Mammon kissed Gabriel.

Sam cursed and prayed in the same breath.

The remaining demons – the ones who hadn't fled the archangel’s presence – looked between each other, confused. They weren't sure whether it was the time for running or quiet celebrating.

Gabriel, after a few moments, pulled away. His free hand yanked Mammon’s head back by the hair. His other hand drove the blade through the fleshy underside of his chin. The top of the blade broke through the top of his skull. Sam felt sick. Gabriel looked passive. Mammon choked, writhing, then fell limp in a violent blast of red light.

The last Sam saw was the demons advancing on Gabriel, and archangel looking at him, one hand raised.

He clicked.

\---------------

Sam was stood outside the bunker. His wrists were sore. Everything was vaguely blurry and spinning.

He threw up in a bush, then slumped against the cold brick walls. It was a freezing day – the clouds above loomed ominously, threatening to rain. Part of him knew he should be going inside, telling Dean everything, looking for a way to break a demon deal. It felt like fucking déjà vu.

The other, bigger part of him wanted to stay out here. To sit and understand and yell out in frustration. To convince himself that this was just a dream, and there wasn't another soul damned to Hell because of him.

Sam felt the vague sensation of something pressing lightly against his forehead. The fogs clouding his vision rolled back, and the dizziness slowed to a halt. He didn’t need to look to his wrists to know they were unmarred – the twisting sensation on the surface of his skin gave the impression that the fissures in his flesh had knitted back together.

He didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Why’re you sat out here?”

Sam shrugged. “Why did you sign your life away?”

“I asked first, kiddo.” Sam rolled his eyes. Gabriel sat down beside him. There was an obvious gap between them – despite his shortcomings, at least he managed to respect personal space, unlike his brothers.

“Didn’t feel like going in.” Sam gaze remained down. A small grey pebble rested in front of his shoe.

“I didn’t save your ass so you could freeze it off, Sam.”

“Why did you? How did you?” Sam looked up, frowning at him. Gabriel didn’t turn to him; his face was turned vaguely upwards, towards the grey clouds. “You died. What happened?”

Gabriel paused. “It’s a long story.” 

“I have time.”

“I don’t.”

Sam wasn’t sure how to reply. The silence hung thick between them, choking down the thoughts Sam couldn’t put into words. Gabriel stood up; Sam watched him begin to walk away.

“Wait!” Sam called after him. Gabriel looked at him. Sam noticed that there was confusion, and anger, and anxiousness written into the lines of his eyes and the shape of his lips. But not regret. “Thank you.”

“Be careful, kid. People might think you care,” Gabriel replied. There was bite to his words, but it wasn’t malicious. “I’ll probably see you round.”

The archangel vanished, and Sam felt the temperature plummet. He hadn’t noticed the heat Gabriel gave off till it was gone. He remembered the icy cold emanating from Lucifer, and how the Devil said it was because of how far he’d fell from grace and from God. The implications hummed loosely in the back of Sam’s mind; not priorities, but curiosities.

With an awkward, uncertain shuffle, Sam turned towards the bunker door and knocked. After a few repeated knocks, Dean opened the door. Castiel stood behind him. They ushered Sam in with concerned glances and silent words.

**Author's Note:**

> so this might be continued, i'm not sure. if you enjoyed, please comment or something, just so i can see if it's a worthwhile idea to pursue. it'll probably be around 7 chapters if i do.
> 
> thank you for reading~


End file.
